


Got Me All Keyed Up

by odetteandodile



Series: Sweater Weather [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Champagne, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, New Year's Eve, Semi-Public Sex, Shrunkyclunks, Soft Boys, Stark Tower party, Tuxedos, bowties, but it's like real light you guys, jk there is no danger i would never, just some light smut, loving and cherishing each other, wow using the public sex tag makes me feel really dangerous i'm a wild woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 08:49:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17220758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odetteandodile/pseuds/odetteandodile
Summary: New Year's Eve at Stark Tower--a time to see and be seen. (Or maybe to find a dark corner andnotbe seen, as the case may be).Steve and Bucky do the red carpet and Bucky finds out that Steve Rogers might have a few surprises left up his sleeve--luckily he'll have a whole new year to keep learning all about them.





	Got Me All Keyed Up

**Author's Note:**

> Another installment for the Sweater Weather series! As always, can be read alone if you so desire, but the preceding fics are super cute so why not start at the beginning?? 
> 
> Please note we jumped a rating (if that's a factor for you). I couldn't quite fade you to black so enjoy just a leeeetle smut with your champagne.

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” Bucky calls to Steve through the closed bathroom door as he tries to get his hair in order. He can’t believe it’s decided to betray him, tonight of all nights. Days where he’s just headed to work it looks perfect, but tonight, with the press and the cameras and the future clickbait articles featuring his face _oh no_ of _course_ it wouldn’t cooperate. “I know I told you there aren’t a lot of New Year’s Eve movies but there are _some_ —”

“Because Tony asked, and then when I said no he sent Pepper to ask and I couldn’t say no to her,” Steve calls back. “And I have absolute faith you would’ve found us something thematic to watch, so have no fear that I doubted you on that—”

“When Harry Met Sally, at the very least!” Bucky yells, cutting him off. “And After the Thin Man…” 

“Hey!” Steve says excitedly, “I know that one! I mean I’ve seen it! I saw that in the theater—when was it, ’36, ’37?”

“Thirty-six,” Bucky says mournfully, opening the bathroom door as he fumbles at his cuffs, “could you help me with these?” 

He looks up to where Steve is sitting on the edge of the bed lacing his shoes, and gestures at Steve with one of the open cuffs of his shirt, not quite able to get the link into place. He finds Steve’s wide blue gaze on him, mouth slightly open. 

“Yes?” Bucky asks, amused. 

Steve shuts his mouth and shakes his head sheepishly. “Sorry you look…” he clears his throat and Bucky smirks, enjoying how Steve’s eyes remain on him as he prowls across the room to offer Steve his cuff to fix. 

“You like this?” Bucky asks, with as much of a purr as he can manage. He leans in, placing his free hand on the back of Steve’s neck to speak low into his ear. “If you want you can take it off me right now—get your money’s worth out of it without even having to bother with the party…” 

Steve, who had started to melt forward into Bucky’s touch jerks back with a look of betrayal. 

“Are you trying to get out of this party by _seducing_ me?” he demands, his tone outraged but his eyes crinkling with a laugh at the corners. 

“Is it working?” Bucky asks, widening his eyes innocently. “Because if it is we could definitely put these tuxedoes through their paces and still have plenty of time for the TCM Thin Man marathon afterward which I’d call a big New Year’s Eve win—”

“Uh-uh,” Steve says firmly, reaching for Bucky’s other cuff. “We’re going to Tony’s stupid party and getting photographed in these stupid—attractive but stupid—tuxes and that’s final. Happy New Year to you.” 

Bucky laughs and lets Steve finish doing up the second cufflink, taking the opportunity to look Steve over while he’s at it. Steve doesn’t look too shabby himself, all spiffed up in black. Bucky’s glad he caved and let Steve buy him a tux for the occasion, now that he sees Steve in his own perfectly tailored custom suit. Bucky would’ve felt pretty dumb in a rental or something off the rack. As it is he feels _just_ this side of worthy of being on Steve’s arm tonight in his own well-fitted jacket and slacks with the stripe down the side. 

He chews on his lip, nervously. He’s never worried before about being good-looking or poised enough to be with Steve, since Steve’s never seemed to question it. But after tonight he figures he’ll have to. The world writ-large isn’t likely to be as tolerant as Steve is. Though of course, it’ll be Steve who bears the brunt of whatever intolerance rains down tomorrow. 

“You sure you want to do this tonight, Steve?” he asks, voice quieter now and not teasing anymore. “With the press and all?” 

Steve looks up at him from his seated position, twining his fingers into Bucky’s with a serious expression. 

“I’m sure. I wanna go out with you if we feel like it and not wonder when the other shoe is gonna drop—I want to start the New Year with everybody knowing you’re my guy.” He swallows. “Unless you don’t want to—? I know it’s a lot…” Steve says, uncertainly. 

Bucky shakes his head, squeezing Steve’s hand tight. “No. I do want to.” His mouth twists up into a smile. “I just really _don’t_ want to make small talk with my boss over crab puffs, but I guess that can’t be helped.” 

“Tony’s allergic to shellfish,” Steve says, unhelpfully. 

Bucky frees one of his hands to smack him on the shoulder as Steve laughs at him. 

“Clint will be there too,” Steve says, standing to retrieve his suit jacket from its hanger. “If that helps.” 

“It does _not_ ,” Bucky says tartly, cramming his feet into his shoes. 

Steve holds out his jacket for him, and Bucky slides his arms in, doing up the button on the front and tugging at the bottom so that it sits straight. 

“Hey,” Steve says, cupping his hands around Bucky’s face so that he has to look at him. “We’ll have a good time, promise.” He laughs as Bucky looks at him unimpressed. “Okay, well I promise that we’ll stick it out together—we’ll do the red carpet for the press, shake a few hands, and kiss at midnight. If we skip the shaking hands part because we’re both socially awkward and instead just hang out in a corner that’s okay too—that’s our thing!—we can still kiss at midnight.” 

As if to illustrate his point, Steve leans in and ghosts a light kiss over Bucky’s lips. Bucky sighs. 

“Just don’t let me make a fool of myself in front of anyone who has saved the world or signs my paychecks, okay?” 

“Deal.” 

*

One ride in a town car, a frenzied and harrying walk down the red carpet with the other glittering guests, and two and a half glasses of expensive champagne later, Bucky is talking to Pepper Potts. 

Somewhere in a corner of his mind that the two and a half glasses of champagne hasn’t reached, Bucky is dimly aware that he is gesturing with his free hand rather animatedly. That corner, however, seems to lack the authority to stop him. 

Pepper is wearing a flawless, artfully structural white gown and is smiling at Bucky indulgently. 

“—but that’s what I’m trying to do with this job y’know?” Bucky says enthusiastically, gesticulating again, “If you wanna do clean water you can do it a lotta places—which is great! don’t get me wrong, clean water saves people’s lives full stop—but if you’re just bringing in a well or whatever you aren’t necessarily gonna _change_ people’s lives youknowwhatImean? If Stark Industries can pursue supporting infrastructure for clean water _and_ clean energy it could really—Steve!” 

Steve comes up beside Bucky’s elbow to slip an arm around his waist looking a tad guilty. 

“Sorry I was gone so long,” Steve says. Bucky frowns—he actually hadn’t really noticed it had been that long. Or even that Steve had left him in the first place even though he _promised_ and—oh no. Bucky turns back to Pepper, feeling the color drain out of his face. 

“Oh my god, Miss Potts I’m—I’ve been talking about this for way too long.” He says, clutching one white knuckled hand to Steve’s arm as he realizes just how much he’d warmed to his subject in the past few minutes. 

Pepper’s smile widens knowingly, scrunching the corners of her eyes in a charming little laugh. “Not at all—I like knowing I’ve got people working for me who are passionate about what they do. Makes me look good as a CEO and means whatever we’re putting out the door is going to be the best.” She gives Steve a little wink. “Plus now I have some ideas about where we might be able to use a little more funding in the next year.” 

“Oh—oh no,” Bucky says, and Pepper raises her eyebrows in question. Bucky hesitates. “I—I wouldn’t want to think my department was jumping in line just because—” he darts his gaze to Steve, “because I happened to have the chance to chat you up at a party.” 

“Ahh,” Pepper says. “Well in that case, maybe we can set up a real meeting some time in January and you can try pitching me all that again with some numbers. It’s about time I reviewed our philanthropic departments’ efforts anyway. For the new year, you know.”

“Oh…kay. Thank you,” Bucky agrees, faintly. 

“Steve,” Pepper says, leaning forward to place a delicate, graceful kiss on Steve’s cheek before smiling one last time at Bucky. “Great chatting with you, Bucky.” Then she’s gone in a swirl of white. 

Bucky groans, turning in Steve’s arms to bury his face in Steve’s shoulder. The champagne buzz that got him into this mess had abandoned him as soon as he’d recognized it. He peers sadly into his half full flute, wondering if he’ll feel better or worse if he recommits and gives it another go. Then he shakes his head, placing it on the tray of a passing waiter as Steve laughs. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Steve says, steering Bucky away from the center of the room with a reassuring hand at the small of his back. “I mean if you’d been talking shit about your job or something I could see—but you basically just cornered the CEO to gush about how much you love working for her so—” 

“You _promised_ , Steve,” Bucky laments, “you promised—no one who has saved the world or signs my paychecks, that was the deal!” 

“In that case, better look alive for criteria one, ten o’clock,” Steve says in his ear, and Bucky’s head snaps around. 

He heaves a sigh of relief when he sees that it’s just Clint. Who okay—he supposes he _does_ fit the world-saving box on his checklist, but it’s also Clint. It’s different. 

Bucky moves out of the guiding circle of Steve’s arms and turns to slump against the wall next to Clint’s rumpled form. 

“How’s it hanging man?” Clint asks just before he shoves an entire mini quiche into his mouth. Bucky looks beside him and sees that Clint has somehow commandeered an entire serving tray of the assorted hors d’oeuvres being passed around. 

Bucky just groans again. 

“That good huh?” Clint says around a mouthful of egg. 

“He was just telling Pepper very enthusiastically about how much he loves his job and apparently that’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to him,” Steve chimes in. 

Bucky flaps an annoyed hand at him. “I wasn’t like, _cool_ about it like trying to make a good impression, I was _champagne_ gushing. Damn bubbles went straight to my head for the worst fifteen minute window they could’ve chosen.” 

Clint shrugs. “Sucks man. I’d hate to have my boss thinking I liked and respected them and wanted to do my job.” 

Steve barks with laughter while Clint keeps an utterly straight face. 

“Fuck off,” Bucky says, but without much heat. 

“So…you do the red carpet?” Clint asks, eyeing Steve with interest. “You tell all the paps they can thank me for all of this?” 

“We did and he did not,” Bucky responds, reaching over Clint to swipe a stuffed mushroom. Clint swats at his hand ineffectively—which is how Bucky knows he’s not actually trying. If the sharpshooter wanted him not to get the mushroom he probably couldn’t have gotten the mushroom. 

“Ahh so,” Clint says. “Been online to check out your buzz yet?” 

“No,” Steve says resolutely. “I don’t want to end my year in some sort of rage spiral thanks to the internet.” 

“Yeah, we want to start the next one with it instead,” Bucky snarks. Steve shoots him a baleful look while Clint snorts. 

“How about you, you do the carpet?” Bucky asks Clint. 

“Nah, I barely found two matching shoes,” Clint replies amiably, shoving his hands in his pockets and slouching even further down the wall. “Nothing good would come of me doing the fashion gauntlet.” 

“So how’d you come in then?” 

“Used my uh—private entrance.” 

Bucky raises his eyebrows, impressed. “You have a private entrance to Stark Tower?” 

Steve laughs, and Bucky looks at him instead. 

“Pretty sure he just means scaling the outer wall,” Steve says. 

Clint grins and makes a stupid finger gun at Steve. “Right you are.” He looks over Steve’s shoulder, eyes catching on something. “You’ve got Stark incoming on a collision route, fyi.” 

Bucky’s head spins, and he indeed sees Tony Stark at the center of a swirling mass of people, but undoubtedly moving in a direction that will bring him to their side of the room. He clutches at Steve’s sleeve again convulsively. 

“Steve,” he pleads, “world-saving—paycheck—”

Steve seems to intuit what he’s asking even through his inarticulate mumbling (or else he also isn’t ready to be pulled into the spotlight of attention that is being near Tony Stark right at this moment), because he grabs Bucky’s hand and pulls him quickly and efficiently through a sliding glass panel out onto a large, sweeping balcony overlooking the city. 

As soon as the panel slides closed again behind them the noise of the party—which is nearing levels one could call cacophonous inside—drops to a dim murmur. 

There aren’t many other people out here either, just a couple of smokers off to the side, despite the fact that it’s clearly been arranged for guest usage. Maybe more folks will make their way out later on for the fireworks, Bucky thinks. Or maybe they don’t realize that it’s apparently been provided with its own environmental controls and isn’t open to the freezing mid-winter air as it appears from inside. It’s actually a really pleasant temperature. 

Steve and Bucky stroll around a few groupings of strategically arranged furniture to the edge of the balcony where they can look out over the city lights below. 

It’s an odd sensation, at the edge of the terrace, when Bucky realizes that he can reach his hand through whatever bubble is keeping the patio warm and feel the true night air on his fingertips. He pulls them back quickly. It’s a night for mittens out there in the real world. 

Somewhere down there, Bucky imagines he can hear (or maybe really does hear) the sound of celebrations from the crowd in Times Square, preparing for the ball drop. Bucky’s never been before. He thinks it’s one of those things most people who actually live in New York just don’t really do—he can’t imagine paying money to be crammed into a tiny space with no bathrooms with that many people in the freezing cold when you could just watch it on TV instead.

He tries to remember what he was doing last year when the calendar rolled over. Honestly he was probably asleep. They’d had a sudden collapse in one of the main lines just around this time last year at his final posting—they’d probably been too exhausted to think much about the date at all at the time. Bucky glances back over his shoulder toward the glittering, open dance floor here at the top of Stark Tower—how much can change in a year. 

His eyes slide over instead to Steve. Yeah, a lot can change. It’s not all bad. 

Steve is gazing out over the city ahead of him, but then he notices Bucky’s eyes on him and looks over with a chuckle. 

“What?” Bucky asks, mouth turning up in a responding smile. 

“I’m just…having a pretty good time, actually,” Steve says with a wry laugh. “New Year’s hasn’t really been my favorite time of year for a while. Or ever, I guess.” 

“Why’s that?” Bucky asks, leaning his elbows on the rail instead of looking directly at him. Sometimes Steve shares more if he’s not on the spot, when Bucky just lets him think aloud like he’s not hanging on every word (even if he is). 

Steve shrugs, shoulder bumping against Bucky’s with the motion. “New Year’s, my birthday, even Christmas—before this year,” he amends, “just—they’re all the days where you’re supposed to think about how time is passing, you know? Where you take stock of what you’ve done all year and try to figure out how to make the next one better—it’s not a bad thing I guess. I just…do a lot of that already.”

“Thinking about time?” 

Steve nods. “Whether anything is better because I was awake for it—if _I’m_ better now than I was before. All that. I don’t really need a date on the calendar to obsess about it, is all.”

Now Bucky does turn to peer into Steve’s face, curious. “Because you’re afraid the answer is no?” 

Steve shrugs again slightly, not meeting his eyes, which Bucky takes to mean yes. 

Bucky huffs. “Never thought I’d fall in love with someone so dumb.” 

Steve gives a strangled, surprised laugh. “Hey!” 

“I’m serious—you’re slow, that’s your problem,” Bucky says with a grin. “Of course the world is better—a year that has you in it is better than the ones that didn’t. You of all people shouldn’t have to wonder about that.” 

“Well,” Steve says with a sigh, “me of all people has more to live up to.” 

“Mmm,” Bucky says. He doesn’t think this is one of those times where Steve’s mind will be changed, even if he knew just what to say. “Well. You made my year better for being in it, at least. Counts for something, right?” 

Steve ducks his head. “Yeah it…does, actually.” 

There are a few moments of silence between them, while Steve seems to be considering something, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Finally he looks over at Bucky, forehead furrowed. “I um…I got you something.” 

“Oh?”

Steve reaches into his pocket, but hesitates. “It’s not wrapped or anything, it’s just—”

Bucky smiles and waves his hand, “Come on, I’ll close my eyes.” 

He does, holding his hand out palm up. 

“Okay,” Steve says softly, placing something small and cold onto Bucky’s hand. “Open ’em.”

Sitting on his palm is a recognizable shape—an ostentatious blue key with red stars on it. Bucky stares at it for a moment, nonplussed. 

“I—it’s—your spare key?” he says, not quite believing it. 

Steve rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s your key—to my place—if you want it,” he says. Then his shy smile falls immediately into something more concerned. “I mean, you don’t have to—if it’s too much I get—I don’t mean you have to move in right away or anything—or at all!—it’s just…I like having you around. Whenever you want to be…” Steve trails off. “Is it okay?”

Bucky curls his fingers around the chilled metal of the key, looking up into Steve’s face. 

“I can’t believe you keyed me on the roof of Tony Stark’s penthouse,” he says. 

Then he shoves the key into the pocket of his slacks, so that both hands are free to fling around Steve’s neck for a kiss. 

Steve’s mouth is warm and already open against his. Both of them taste a little like the champagne they’d been sipping inside, and the heady rush of Steve’s tongue sliding against his makes the comparison complete as Bucky’s head spins. He tightens his grip around the back of Steve’s neck, and Steve’s arms slip around Bucky’s waist to hold him tight against his body. 

After a minute Bucky pulls back long enough to twist his hands instead in Steve’s lapels, tugging him backward away from the open rail of the balcony around the edge and into a shadowy corner instead. There’s a wide rattan couch tucked into a nook (the placement of which can honestly only have been intended for making out) and Bucky grins when he sees it. Steve shakes his head but lets Bucky spin him anyway so that Steve has to sit on the couch with Bucky climbing into his lap quickly after. 

Bucky threads his fingers through Steve’s hair, tugging his head back for another deep kiss and eliciting a very soft but nonetheless rewarding sound from Steve’s throat. Steve’s not going to be vocal out here in the open like this, he’s too private for that as Bucky knows by now, and well able to keep quiet if he puts his mind to it. But Bucky can still hear the quick little intakes of breath and feel the silent sighs that let him know Steve is with him. 

Steve’s hands settle under Bucky’s jacket, spread hot against his lower back. 

“So, you want me all up in your space huh Rogers?” Bucky whispers into Steve’s ear. 

“I—wh—?”

Bucky’s mouth curls against Steve’s jaw, enjoying that Steve is a little slower on the uptake than usual thanks to him. He loves flustering Steve. 

“In your apartment, I mean,” he says. Steve laughs, but the sound is choked off as Bucky flicks his tongue against the soft place behind the hinge of his jaw, and Steve’s head tips back. 

“Yeah,” Steve says, hands roving up and down Bucky’s thighs. “I want you in my apartment, want you in my bed, shower, kitchen—I just want you Buck. In my life, in my space, all of it.” 

“Good,” Bucky nods, leaning forward again to seal his mouth over Steve’s as Steve tips up to meet him. 

If you’d asked him any other given moment of the year, Bucky would never have said he’s super big on PDA. It’s some combination of his personality and also several years spent working in places where not only did he not have many romantic outlets, but he was often in countries with less than friendly LGBT policies which required discretion. It’s been a good thing really, he and Steve’s relationship wouldn’t work half so well if it weren’t the case (as it literally wasn’t public in any shape before tonight). 

But for some reason, between the soaring affection he feels toward Steve bubbling in his throat and the heat pooling in his stomach with Steve’s warm body under his—he doesn’t mind so much that they’re in a secluded but not particularly private corner of a rather raucous party. He rocks his hips against Steve’s in silent invitation, though he doesn’t really expect Steve to take him up on it. 

He still has a thing or two to discover, it seems. Bucky lets out an utterly surprised groan as Steve palms deliberately at the front of his slacks. Bucky can’t help the sound that escapes him, dropping his head to Steve’s shoulder and pushing up against his hand. 

Steve laughs without sound and grips at the back of Bucky’s neck. “Only gonna do this if you’re quiet, otherwise gotta wait ’til we get home and you can be as loud as you want.” 

“How about I’m quiet now and then I’ll be loud again later,” Bucky whispers, pleased at his coherence with Steve’s hand moving against his fly maddeningly. He only sounds a little strained. 

Steve mouths at his neck and reaches for the button of his pants as his non-verbal response. Bucky leans back as Steve works his zip down and tugs at the ends of Steve’s bowtie, fumbling at the top few buttons so Bucky can get his mouth on his bare throat as Steve begins to stroke him slowly. 

Despite his best intentions, Bucky isn’t able to keep quite as silent as he means to with Steve’s hand on his dick and Steve’s eyes on his face. Steve’s hair is mussed from Bucky’s fingers, and he looks debauched with his shirt collar open and his eyes half-lidded as he watches the roll of Bucky’s hips. So Bucky can’t really help it. After the second barely stifled moan that escapes him, Steve laughs (it comes out a little bit like a pant, for which Bucky is grateful as he melts into more and more of a gasping mess in Steve’s lap). 

Steve shakes his head and moves his hand from the back of Bucky’s neck to cover Bucky’s mouth, hushing him, and Bucky’s eyes widen because okay— _fuck_ maybe he _is_ into this. He breathes hard through his nose as he rocks desperately into Steve’s grip, fingers clutched tight to Steve’s shoulders. It takes him by surprise how his body responds with Steve’s fingers warm and gentle covering his mouth, making sure no one hears because someone— _anyone_ could hear them and walk up any moment and Steve’s getting him off anyway and…

Bucky taps his fingers against Steve’s shoulder, warning him he’s not gonna last much longer. Steve’s mouth just curls into a slow, hazy smile as he twists his hand…and Bucky’s a goner. Steve’s fingers leave his mouth just as he gasps, tightening his own grip on Steve’s shoulders and coming with a shudder. 

Bucky sighs happily as his muscles relax from their momentary tenseness, slumping in Steve’s lap with what he knows is a dopey grin. 

Steve looks especially pleased with himself as he cleans Bucky up—Bucky realizing now that both of them were spared any mess on their nice tuxedos at the expense of Steve’s silk pocket square applied strategically at the last moment. 

Bucky raises an eyebrow as Steve zips up his slacks and does his button. 

“Full of surprises, Rogers.” 

“Yeah you got a lot to learn still, don’t want you getting cocky thinking you know it all.” 

Bucky snorts. “Hah, getting cocky…” he trails off, frowning. “Damn I should say something wittier about that. The joke just isn’t coming to me.” 

“Coming to you, hah,” Steve says, mocking him good naturedly. 

Bucky punches him on the shoulder. “You’re feeling pretty smug right now I take it.” 

Steve shrugs, but the grin doesn’t leave his face. 

“You’re a lot more efficient giving a public handjob than one would expect,” Bucky remarks. 

“Soldiers, you know—we always have to be prepared. It’s just good strategy.” 

Bucky scoffs, rolling off to the side of Steve’s lap to sit beside him on the couch, tucking his dress shirt back into his pants. 

“I wish I could think that was a metaphor about battles but honestly I bet you guys _do_ have that motto about jacking off so—”

“Careful,” Steve warns, elbowing Bucky in the ribs as he rebuttons his own shirt. “Or I won’t let you in on any of my other related secrets.” 

“Yes sir,” Bucky grins. “I take it you don’t want me to return the favor…?” He glances at Steve’s fingers, tidying his bowtie, and down at his lap, pointedly. 

Steve shakes his head, smiling. “Don’t think I’d enjoy it as much as you—rather let you keep your promise when we get home.” 

Bucky nods, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on Steve’s cheek instead. If he thought for a minute Steve was just demurring for the sake of it, he’d get straight on his knees. But Steve really is a private guy, and Bucky’d rather focus his efforts in a setting where Steve can actually let go and enjoy himself. 

“You’re so proper, what’d you do to get saddled with such a mess?” Bucky asks, running his hands through his hair to try and smooth it into some kind of not-just-fucked orderliness. 

“A handsome mess at least,” Steve says, slinging his arm around Bucky’s shoulder with a laugh. Now that they aren’t in such a compromising position, Steve’s volume has returned more or less to normal. 

“Jeez, what do you even see in me?”

“That a rhetorical question or you want the list?” 

Bucky laughs. “Honestly I can say that my self-esteem is high enough that if you treat it rhetorically I’ll be fine but uh—” he glances up at Steve with a hopeful look. “If you wanna give me the list I sure wouldn’t mind. To ring in the New Year. Tell me what you like about me, Steven. Something true.” 

Steve laughs too, pulling Bucky in tighter under his arm as though keeping him warm, though the heaters are as marvelously effective as one would expect from Stark. 

“Okay,” Steve says, resting his cheek on Bucky’s hair. “Well we covered handsome already, but let me know if you’d like me to wax poetic about your ass later. Let’s see. You’re a really good person, and that’s important to me. But the thing about you is that you can see what the world needs and try to fix it without letting it overwhelm you. Your job, how you stepped in when your family needed you, even how you take care of me. You care _so much_ about things, but it doesn’t weigh you down.” Steve pauses. “Most people you meet and from whatever that first impression is there’s…some sort of promise of what else is underneath, what it will be like to know them better. And most people you’re disappointed. But not with you. First time I met you I just had this feeling like you were somebody worth knowing—you were so sharp and warm and…I just knew whatever _more_ there was to you I wanted to see it. Haven’t been disappointed yet. You’re just _you_ no matter where you are and I…admire that.” 

“Wow,” Bucky says, clearing his throat a bit. “Okay then. I accept.” He burrows his face into Steve’s shoulder, trying to get a handle on the melting feeling of his heart. 

It’s odd, being seen by somebody else. And in a position for them to express what they see to you. The things Steve picked out about him take Bucky by surprise a little—not because he doesn’t think they’re true, rather the opposite. Steve’s honed in on the thing about himself that Bucky has always strived the hardest for. To care deeply but keep his sense of humor, to be true to himself even when he’s tempted to put on an act. It feels important, somehow, that those are the things Steve sees. 

“So, knowing how great you are,” Steve says, mouth tipping up at the corner, “This favor you can return in public—what do you see in me?” 

Bucky considers the question honestly. It’s not a test, he knows, any more than he was testing Steve when he asked it. But with Steve’s unexpectedly forthright answer still humming under his skin, he wants to treat it seriously. 

“Well,” Bucky says slowly. “I think you’re somebody who makes everyone around them better, just by being yourself. You try so hard to be good, you have such high standards for yourself. It makes me want to be better too. And I’m not sure, but I’m guessing that was all _you_ even before Captain America entered the scene. But that’s the stuff everyone knows. What do I _love_ about you?” Bucky relishes still in the newness of the word between them, and getting to say it freely. He tilts his head to look up at Steve, who has a blush spread across his cheekbones, and Bucky can tell that he’s pleased. “I love all the stuff that everybody can’t see on TV. You’re insightful about people—I don’t think anybody gives you enough credit for that. People think you’re shy but really you’re busy noticing stuff most people miss, you’re observant and empathetic. I love seeing how goofy you get when you let yourself. I love how you are with Soph—with kids really.” Bucky pauses, unable to help himself from joking just a little, “Plus honestly, those shoulders don’t hurt your case. I like those quite a lot.” 

Steve makes a small, inarticulate sound in the back of his throat and pulls Bucky in a little roughly to wrap both his arms around him, holding him tight. 

“Buck, thank you—” Steve mumbles into Bucky’s hair, “ _God_ , I’m lucky, you’re so—” 

Fortunately Bucky has a pretty good idea now of what he’s “so” in Steve’s eyes, because Steve doesn’t quite get to complete the thought. Instead he’s interrupted by a sudden roar of noise as the sliding glass panels all along the main room open, and noise from the party spills out along with the crowd. 

Soon the balcony is flooded with bodies, swirling around them, though nobody seems to notice them in their particular corner. Everyone is laughing and ruddy cheeked with alcohol and dancing, and most are now sporting silly party hats like you’d get at the dollar store. A few people are already setting off little poppers, too drunk to care that it’s not quite time for it. 

Steve squeezes Bucky’s hand and stands, pulling him up as somebody starts a countdown chant. 

_six—five—four—THREE—TWO—ONE!!_

Everyone screams in unison, and all around the terrace there is a flare and crash of fireworks as the recorded sound of a church bell starts chiming twelve through the speakers. 

Steve turns his head, and places soft fingers under Bucky’s jaw to tip his face up for a kiss. 

“Happy New Year, Bucky. I love you,” Steve says, just loud enough for Bucky to make out amongst the din. 

“Happy New Year, Steve. And I love you too,” Bucky replies, arms going around Steve’s waist. 

Around them, someone sentimental gets the crowd singing a chorus of Auld Lang Syne. 

_For auld lang syne my dear, for auld lang syne  
We’ll take the cup of kindness yet for auld lang syne._

“It’s going to be a good year,” Bucky says, nose tucked into the warm crook of Steve’s neck. 

Steve’s arms tighten around his shoulders in agreement. 

“I think it’s going to be the best one yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I'd love to know what you think so drop me a comment!! 
> 
> My wonderful beta is as ever [@calendulae](https://calendulae.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. You can also find me on tumblr at [@odette-and-odile](http://odette-and-odile.tumblr.com/) so come say hi :)
> 
> If you feel compelled to share, rebloggable version for tumblr [here](http://odette-and-odile.tumblr.com/post/181540097358/got-me-all-keyed-up-steve-x-bucky-m-55k).


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